* It may not be amiss to remind the incredulous reader that a famous firm in the City accepted precisely the same security as that here accepted by Bulpit Brothers, with the same sublime indifference to troubling themselves by making any inquiry about it.

FOURTH SCENE.

Muswell Hill.

The next day Turlington drove to the suburbs, on the chance of finding the Graybrookes at home again.  Sir Joseph disliked London, and could not prevail on himself to live any nearer to the metropolis than Muswell Hill.  When Natalie wanted a change, and languished for balls, theaters, flower-shows, and the like, she had a room especially reserved for her in the house of Sir Joseph’s married sister, Mrs. Sancroft, living in that central deep of the fashionable whirlpool known among mortals as Berkeley Square.

On his way through the streets, Turlington encountered a plain proof that the Graybrookes must have returned.  He was passed by Launce, driving, in company with a gentleman, in a cab.  The gentleman was Launce’s brother, and the two were on their way to the Commissioners of Police to make the necessary arrangements for instituting an inquiry into Turlington’s early life.

Arrived at the gate of the villa, the information received only partially fulfilled the visitor’s expectations.  The family had returned on the previous evening.  Sir Joseph and his sister were at home, but Natalie was away again already.  She had driven into town to lunch with her aunt.  Turlington went into the house.

“Have you lost any money?” Those were the first words uttered by Sir Joseph when he and Richard met again, after the parting on board the yacht.

“Not a farthing.  I might have lost seriously, if I had not got back in time to set things straight.  Stupidity on the part of my people left in charge—­nothing more.  It’s all right now.”

Sir Joseph lifted his eyes, with heartfelt devotion, to the ceiling.  “Thank God, Richard!” he said, in tones of the deepest feeling.  He rang the bell.  “Tell Miss Graybrooke Mr. Turlington is here.”  He turned again to Richard.  “Lavinia is like me—­Lavinia has been so anxious about you.  We have both of us passed a sleepless night.”  Miss Lavinia came in.  Sir Joseph hurried to meet her, and took her affectionately by both hands.  “My dear! the best of all good news, Richard has not lost a farthing.”  Miss Lavinia lifted her eyes to the ceiling with heartfelt devotion, and said, “Thank God, Richard!”—­like the echo of her brother’s voice; a little late, perhaps, for its reputation as an echo, but accurate to half a note in its perfect repetition of sound.

Turlington asked the question which it had been his one object to put in paying his visit to Muswell Hill.

“Have you spoken to Natalie?”

“This morning,” replied Sir Joseph.  “An opportunity offered itself after breakfast.  I took advantage of it, Richard—­you shall hear how.”